


Specters of the Past are Sometimes Quite Helpful

by Shearmouth



Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alexa play "A Horse with No Name", BAMF Edward Elric, Banter, Blood, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Roy Mustang, Post-Canon, Rescue, War, Whumptober 2020, back at it again with the found family, roy is straight up not having a good time, vague military fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shearmouth/pseuds/Shearmouth
Summary: For Whumptober Day 5: RescueAerugo and Amestris are at war, and Roy is getting really sick of this cell.He's also getting sick, period. Dirty bullet wounds will do that to you.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947829
Comments: 25
Kudos: 224
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Specters of the Past are Sometimes Quite Helpful

Roy lost track around day five.

He’d tried, he’d really tried, to keep a tally of how long it had been. But dehydration was a bitch and a half. It stripped him of his strength and scattered his thoughts. He could’ve scratched something in the walls maybe, but he couldn’t tell how much time had passed between when the Aerugans had captured him and his subsequent waking up chained to the wall of a windowless room.

So, yeah. He was pretty sure today was day five. He’d go with that.

Roy swallowed past the dryness of his throat. They’d given him water only once, around the alleged day three, and it had been only a few sips that left the grit of sand on his teeth. It smelled like livestock, but he’d take horse trough water over the roaring desert heat any day. At least they hadn’t left him tied up outside, where the merciless sun would’ve broiled him in hours.

That line of thinking brought him back to a repetitive question in his flyaway mind– why was he still alive?

The chronic tension at the border of Aerugo and Amestris had exploded over a month ago, with the disappearance of an Aerugan general for which the belligerent country instantly blamed Amestris. They declared war shortly after, and the frontline ignited, each side bullying into the other’s territory. Fuhrer Grumman was hoping to resolve the conflict quickly and with as little death as possible. Roy didn’t regret volunteering to broker the peace treaty. He’d been aggressively expanding his diplomatic repertoire in the three years since the Promised Day. As a General, he needed it for advancement, sure, but he was also exhausted with killing. He would always choose bringing peace through words instead of weapons.

That angle didn’t seem to be going too well at the moment, though. Roy smirked bitterly when he thought of the ceasefire he’d been inches from negotiating. It was no coincidence that his capture happened on the eve of the parley. He had to grudgingly admit that the Aerugans who’d snatched him were good at their jobs. They knew the desert better than Roy’s people. They knew how to hide and take someone down from a distance.

Roy absently brushed his fingers against the side of his neck where the blowdart had struck him. Clever bastards had plucked him from the edge of his own damn camp.

He ground the back of his head against the cool stone wall in frustration. He’d narrowed it down to two main explanations. One, the entire Aerugan government was hellbent on a turf war and had faked their general’s disappearance in order to invade. Or two, another party was at work, either a militant Aerugan faction or even another country seeking to generate discord.

He didn’t want to consider a third option, which was _another fucking coup._

No, no, the Promised Day was only a few years ago and Roy absolutely refused to stamp out the dangerous endeavors of a corrupt government more than once a decade.

But in any case, someone didn’t want the warring nations talking nice any time soon. And with his disappearance, the Amestrian military would be incensed.

If he didn’t get out of here soon and help pry the squalling countries apart, this was going to get a whole lot worse.

He refused to let another Ishval happen. Not as he lived and breathed.

Unfortunately, his prospects of escape were nil. Because besides the weakness from dehydration and the lingering brain fog of whatever they’d darted him with, they’d apparently decided to cover their bases via a bullet to the thigh.

That was another missing patch of time. After Roy felt his femur crack.

Luckily, they missed the artery, so the puddle of blood in which he woke wasn’t lethally deep.

Still hurt like a motherfucker. Roy lifted his manacled hands to his right leg and checked the bandages. The strips of his uniform jacket that braceleted his thigh were dark with day-old blood.

There was an exit wound, at least, so he didn’t need to worry about the bullet itself. His true enemy was infection. And with the lack of food and water, the wounds were barely scabbing. They still looked relatively clean, but it was just a matter of time. 

His only comfort was that if the Aerugans wanted him dead, they would have killed him already. More likely they would hold him for ransom or try to pry out some state secrets. Even if they kept him from death by blood poisoning, the alternatives may not be much better.

No two ways about it. Roy was in deep shit.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing.

 _Stop whining,_ Roy berated himself. _A pity party will not help this._

Still, there wasn’t much more he _could_ do beyond wait for the next move, for something to happen or someone to screw up.

Roy shifted closer to the wall and tried to find a comfortable position. New pain rippled through his leg. He hissed, hunched down, and waited for sleep to take him.

ººº

Yelling. There was yelling, and the sound running feet. Roy woke with a start.

He could hear shouts through the walls of his cell. They were too distant for him to make out any words, but the inflection sounded panicked. Gunfire crackled over the muffled thunder of heavy boots.

Something was wrong– the Aerugans were scared.

Hope tingled up Roy’s spine.

He straightened with a grunt and leaned hard against the wall. His vision swam. His leg felt like a charred tree branch, stiff and smoldering. He rested a gentle hand over the bandages and grimaced at the palpable heat there.

_That had better be you Hawkeye, or I’m going to cook in my own skin here._

There was a shout nearby, then an odd crackling sound. A body thumped to the floor, followed by a savage snarl of victory. Roy blinked at the odd familiarity of the sound. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite–

The wall thudded. The door was yanked open, revealing a panting figure. Roy blinked at the harsh flood of light.

Then almost fell on his ass right there once he could see.

Because Edward fucking Elric was standing in the doorway.

Those strange gold eyes widened when they landed on Roy. “Colonel!” Ed gasped in relief. “Oh, thank fuck. I was right.”

Roy was so floored by– everything, really, but mostly the spontaneous reappearance of his former subordinate, that he could only think to say, “General.”

Ed made a face. “What?”

“It’s– General.” Roy’s voice was hoarse from sickness and solitude. “Get your– titles right, Fullmetal.”

Ed stood frozen, staring in disbelief. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Still the same old bastard, I see. We can be pedantic later– let’s get you out of here first.”

Ed sat Roy down, then crouched next to his manacled wrists. He produced a thick file and began to saw through the metal.

Roy couldn’t stop staring. The fever was slowing his mind down, but he was also genuinely stunned to see Edward here. It had been more than three years since they last parted ways. After the Promised Day, Ed was rapidly charging into manhood, homeward bound with his arm and his brother in the physical realm once more. Roy spoke to them now and then, kept tabs on them, but he hadn’t actually seen the Elrics since they left for Resembool.

The years since had clearly been good to Ed. Roy couldn’t quite believe it was him. He had grown– a lot. He would likely match Roy’s height now, and the wiry build of his youth had yielded to lean muscle on a slender frame, dressed in military-issue desert fatigues. His hair was longer, tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes were different too; the rage that simmered there for as long as Roy knew him had cooled.

But he was wearing that set to his mouth he’d always had, the look of the bit between his teeth, and the pissy glint in his eye was the same. Roy felt a phantom dread from when he was still Ed’s superior. Dealing with the Fullmetal Alchemist’s damages had been stressful enough when he was a _tweenager._ This 19-year-old incarnation of his belligerent protegee, even without alchemy or government funding, could be even worse.

Ed had come into his own. God help them.

Roy’s theory was confirmed shortly after Ed broke through the last cuff. “All right, let’s go!”

“Where are the others?” Roy asked, swallowing a groan as Ed helped him to his feet and wrapped his arm around Roy’s ribs, and shit, he was never going to stop marveling at the fact that his hand wasn’t metal anymore.

“There aren’t any,” Ed replied. “Pick your feet up, old man.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t use one of the legs seeing how I got SHOT in it,” Roy snapped. Then the first part of Ed’s sentence registered. “Wait, you– what do you mean the others aren’t here?”

“I mean,” Ed grunted as he glanced down the stone-walled corridor, “It’s just me. I’m alone.” He started hauling Roy along, past the thoroughly unconscious body of an Aerugan solider on the floor outside his cell.

Roy’s head was spinning, from pain and bafflement. “You’re alo– Fullmetal, how are you even here? You’re not in the military anymore! There’s no way they would send a civilian into enemy territory, even you!”

It wasn’t like Ed’s reputation among the higher-ups had dissolved with his resignation, and wildly inaccurate tales of the Fullmetal Alchemist still circulated among enlisted soldiers. But not even Ed’s record would get him over the frontline, especially considering he was no longer an alchemist.

Roy gasped and hunched at a sudden spike of pain. Ed halted, strong fingers digging into Roy’s ribs. Roy glanced up and blinked at the almost-sheepish look on Ed’s face.

“Yeah, that’s the thing…they don’t know I’m here.” Ed looked like he would’ve been rubbing his neck awkwardly, if he wasn’t busy keeping Roy from faceplanting.

Roy gaped at him. “ _What?”_

“It’s all over the news that you’re missing.” Ed wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I heard a few days ago. We’re in Rush Valley now, you know, me and Winry, so I wasn’t even that far away. I called Hawkeye.”

Roy’s nostrils flared. “She would never ask–“

“She didn’t,” Ed assured him. “I offered. Well, kinda– I said if she didn’t tell me where she thought they were keeping you, I would just get a map of all the known Aerugan bases and throw a dart at it. She wanted to come after you, seriously, but the war cabinet wouldn’t let her. The frontline has been really bad since you disappeared, and they said they couldn’t spare the resources to find you, not even a small team.” Ed’s eyes flared. “It’s like they _want_ the war to keep going.”

“Some of them do,” Roy said bitterly. “I know the generals in the cabinet. Several are from South City. They’ve wanted to take Aerugo on for years. I’m sure my kidnapping was received as a welcome opportunity.”

Ed groaned. “Haven’t we had enough wars? I thought you were going to turn this place into a democracy?”

Roy scowled. “I’m not Fuhrer yet, Fullmetal. It takes a while.”

He expected Ed to jab back. But to Roy’s surprise, Ed chuckled softly, and a little sadly. “You know you can’t call me that anymore. And here you were, telling me off about titles.”

A strange poignancy settled in Roy’s chest.

His stint as a State Alchemist surely had to be some of the worst years of Ed’s short life. Part of Roy wondered how Ed could feel at all nostalgic for them.

But then he thought of the short, shattering time when he lost his own sight. The grief he felt then, the profound sense of wrongness, had stolen his breath at times. 

Ed had been an alchemic prodigy since childhood. He’d used it like any other natural ability. Roy couldn’t imagine that feeling of loss.

So maybe Ed didn’t miss the bad times. He just missed that vein of good that came with it.

Roy asked, with rare gentleness, “What do you want me to call you, then?”

Ed’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Well, I guess it’s technically illegal for you to use my State title. So in that case, by all means.” He flashed a toothy grin. “Anything to stick it to the man. Besides, it would be weird if you called me anything else.”

Roy couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t suppose I can expect any military courtesy toward my new rank, can I?”

They had reached the end of the corridor, where a set of stairs rose steeply into the darkness above. Ed paused again so Roy could rest, and smirked. “We just established I’m not in the military anymore, Mustang. Keep dreaming. You’re Colonel Bastard for life.”

Roy was about to snark back– his height jokes wouldn’t land any more, God _damn_ it–when something pounded overhead. Heavy-shod footfalls echoed down the stairs, coming rapidly closer.

Roy tensed. He couldn’t fight– he could barely walk.

“Fuck, I thought I got them all,” Ed cursed, glaring up the stairwell. Without warning, he pushed Roy against the wall, as far from the entrance as he could.

Roy stumbled, almost fell, and managed to catch himself against the cold stone. “Fullmetal, what–“

But Ed wasn’t hearing him. He took a stance in the middle of the hallway and flicked his right hand out from the elbow. A foot-long blade, almost identical to the one he used to transmute on his automail, appeared from inside his sleeve and covered the back of his wrist and hand. At the same time, he drew something from the back of his belt and brought it to bear. It was a slender rod of smooth metal, the same length as the blade. A tangy scent crackled through the air.

An soldier charged from the stairs with a yell. The Aerugan army’s blade of choice was a massive, heavy-tanged scimitar, and the solider swung his down toward Ed in a vicious arc before Roy could even shout a warning.

He didn’t need to.

Ed sidestepped nimbly and swept the scimitar to the side with his blade. Before the solider could adjust, or Roy could even blink, Ed darted inside the Aerugan’s guard and jabbed him in the gut with the rod.

There was a loud pop, and a caustic scent filled the air. The solider dropped, boneless and silent, to the floor.

Three more soldiers suddenly appeared in the archway. They spotted their fallen comrade, and rage twisted their features. They rushed toward Ed with furious yells.

Ed let out a battle roar– so similar to the one he leveled against Father on the Promised Day it made chills claw up Roy’s neck– and met them head on.

The fight lasted only seconds, and to Roy it was a blur of bright steel and blond hair. There was a series of cracks, one after the other, and the Aerugan soldiers collapsed on top of each other. The hallway was plunged into silence.

Ed stood panting, a manic gleam in his eye.

Roy stared at the odd weapon in his hands. “What the hell is that thing?”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Ed twirled the metal stick like a baton. “Winry made it for me– I have like, the _best_ girlfriend in the world by the way, I just thought I’d remind you of that. Gives a nice little shock to the unlucky recipient. Enough to keep you down for a few hours.” Ed grinned savagely. “I call it the Lightning Rod.”

Roy couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “How original.”

“Says the _Flame_ Alchemist.”

“Touché.” Roy hauled himself off the wall. “Can we go now?”

ººº

It took several stumbles, one fall, and the dispatching of two more Aerugan soldiers before Roy and Ed broke into the open. Turns out they’d been keeping him underground, in a series of caves that burrowed into the side of a serpentine sandstone canyon. Roy rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear the silhouettes that danced behind his lids. After five (five?) days under the surface of the earth with just occasional torchlight to go by, even the wan light of the half-moon was enough to make him squint. All he could make out were the ragged hulks of the desert mountains around them.

Ed adjusted his arm around Roy’s ribcage, scowling into the night. “I fucking hate sand. Whoever thought it was a good idea to live in the desert?”

“Don’t you live in Rush Valley?” Roy asked. “Y’know, in the South?”

“It’s in the high mountains. Arid. Totally different. Now get moving, we don’t have much time until sunrise. I parked the horse this way.”

“You brought a horse?” They began stumbling through the rocky sand toward a bend in the canyon.

“Yes, I brought a horse, Hawkeye gave me it. Like I said, I fucking hate sand, and also it’s faster.” Ed grunted as his automail leg overbent in a particularly deep patch. “We’re in a dry riverbed. Follow it a few miles down and it takes us to a remote stretch of the Achaenamid.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “And how do you propose we cross?” The river that separated Amestris and Aerugo was notoriously treacherous. The only bridges across were strictly guarded, now doubly so with war having been declared.

Ed tossed him a half-grin. The moonlight washed out all color in his eyes and hair, leaving him ghostly. In his fatigues, he blended into the surrounding terrain almost perfectly. “I found a ford. Hawkeye and I figured they would’ve taken you pretty far inland, but Aerugo has such a high population density that we didn’t think they would’ve brought you any of the cities. The Aerugans historically lived in cliff houses and cave systems in their eastern rivers. We studied the routes, and realized this canyon ran directly to their Northern Command center. Turns out our hunch was right. One of our spies heard something about an Amestrian being kept in an ancient cave palace.”

“I don’t know if ‘palace’ is the appropriate term.” Roy grunted as his ankle bent painfully. His thigh was just a blur of pain, sending jolts of agony to spear up to his shoulders and down to his foot.

“Operative word being ‘old.’” Ed was scanning the darkness intently. “Anyway, we figured it was worth a shot. I studied maps of the area and thought there might be a delta at the mouth of the canyon. Luckily, I was right.”

“So you gambled?” Roy panted. “What if you were wrong?”

Ed raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in an _eh?_ gesture. “Try somewhere else the next night, I guess.”

Roy stopped. Ed looked over at him curiously.

“Why?” Roy couldn’t help but ask. “Fullmetal, you’re not in the military anymore. You’ve been– _free o_ f all this for three years.”

Ed blinked. “Your point being?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the lack of food, blood loss, some fucked-up combination of all three, but Roy, to his horror, felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“You did it,” he whispered. “You got your bodies back and you went home. Why risk it all for me?”

For a moment, Ed just stared, brows furrowed. Those damn _eyes–_ even young and dull with guilt in the face of a preteen boy, they had seemed to bite right through Roy. _Watch me,_ they seemed to say. _Watch me do what you say I can’t._

And he had. Again and again, Edward had proved the world wrong. And Roy had never told him how proud that made him feel, and how grateful he was that he’d been there to see it.

A bolt of pain ripped through Roy. His vision went cloudy. The knee of his left leg buckled, and he would’ve face-planted into the sand had Ed not yelped and hooked his elbow under Roy’s other arm.

“You’re still a real idiot, you know that?” Ed muttered. He ignored Roy’s weak protests and slung him over his shoulder. Had Roy’s vision and hearing not been rapidly waning, he would’ve said something about the fact that never in a million years had he imagined Ed would be tall enough to do such a thing.

Just before he blacked out, Roy heard Ed murmur, “You kept my dumb ass alive for long enough, Mustang. It’s nice to return the favor.”

ººº

When Roy woke, the process was slow, and gentler than he was used to. Military life gave him the skill to rouse quickly. Now he almost watched from afar as feeling seeped into his limbs, the thrum of his heartbeat within his bones. His leg ached a little, but it was distant and dull rather than the sharp agony from before.

Before– before–

Roy’s eyes snapped open. Pale fabric fluttered overhead, and he realized he was in an army tent. He lifted his head, wincing at the faint throb of lingering dehydration behind his eyelids.

The familiar effects of his tent from the Amestrian southern base came into view. Daylight filtered in through the half-open entrance flap. He glanced to his bedside and found an empty chair pulled up nearby. It was hardly the first time he’d woken up alone after an injury, but he couldn’t squash the vague panic that was rising up within him.

Ed– Edward had been with him. He’d rescued him. Where–?

The entrance flap lifted, and Hawkeye ducked in with a stream of light at her back. Her eyes widened momentarily when landed on Roy’s.

She smiled softly. “Welcome back, General. How are you feeling?”

“Captain,” Roy rasped urgently, because _fuck_ his throat was dry. “Fullmetal– he was with me, where–?” He tried to shuffle into a sitting position, clenching his teeth against lingering pain.

Hawkeye was instantly at his side. She propped him up, arranged the pillows to support his back, then handed him small wooden cup. Roy drank eagerly. He thought he’d learned his lesson after Ishval, but this time he really wasn’t going to take fresh water for granted ever again.

“Slow down, sir.” Hawkeye plucked the cup from his wobbly grasp and replaced it on the bedside table. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Captain, where–“

“General,” Hawkeye cut in, voice low. “Edward is fine, but mind your volume. Your tent is directly across from General Howe’s.” Roy scowled, even as some of his tension eased. Damn that southern warmonger. He’d arrest Fullmetal by his own hand if he learned Ed had inserted himself into military affairs.

Shithead should’ve seen the little gremlin in his heyday. He would’ve had an aneurysm.

Roy rubbed his tired face. He felt sun-scraped and raw, but it was a hell of an improvement over dying in a cave. “What happened? The last I remember, he’d just gotten me out, and we were trying to find his horse.”

“Indeed. You owe that horse a commendation, sir,” Hawkeye said wryly. She settled in the chair at his bedside and handed him the water again.

“She carried you in here just before sundown, the day before yesterday. You’d been tied to the saddle. You were dehydrated and your leg wound was infected, but the medics did an excellent job. It will take a while, but you should make a full recovery.”

Relief pushed the air from Roy’s lungs, and he slumped against the bedframe. For a while he’d been worried he’d have to pay an unfortunate visit to Rockbell’s Automail Outfitters.

“And Fullmetal?” Roy asked. “You said he was all right, did you see him?”

Hawkeye nodded, palms help up placatingly. “We had a rendezvous point about a mile from here. Once you were stabilized, I went to see him.” Hawkeye half-smiled. “He was quite concerned as to whether you’d made it here safely. Apparently, he sent the two of you onward as soon as camp was in sight.”

A strange feeling echoed in Roy’s chest. “I owe you both my life,” he murmured. “Did you thank him for me?”

At that, Hawkeye smirked. “He told me to say, quote, ‘Stop this stupid war and then come thank me yourself.’”

Roy barked a laugh. “He may be a foot taller and have his arm again, but he’s still a little brat, isn’t he?”

Hawkeye’s face softened with fondness. “He really has grown. It’s hard to believe it’s the same person. He’s come so far.”

“He has,” Roy murmured. _We all have._

The entrance fluttered. Roy and Hawkeye looked up just as Fuery poked his head in. “Captain, you’re needed in the command tent– oh, General!” Fuery grinned brightly. “It’s good to see you awake sir.”

“Good to see you too, Fuery,” Roy said. He pulled the blankets off his legs, grateful someone had dressed him in simple civvies at some point. “Right, help me up please, Captain.”

Fuery frowned at him. “What? Why, sir?” Hawkeye didn’t bother protesting, just wordlessly readied a pair of crutches.

“Because I have work to do.” Roy slung his arm over Hawkeye’s broad shoulders. She lifted him up easily, then wedged the crutches under his arms.

Roy stood slowly, wobbling a little. Hawkeye steadied him, and Fuery hurried over to spot his left side. “Sir, are you sure?”

“Yes, Fuery, I’m sure.” Roy smiled at him reassuringly, then started toward the tent flap. “I have to stop this stupid war so I can visit a few old friends.”


End file.
